


got me so high ( like i'm on cloud nine )

by dormant_bender



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, Filthy, How Do I Tag, Kinky, M/M, Mile High Club, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexting, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Timeline What Timeline, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6685144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dormant_bender/pseuds/dormant_bender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafinha has always wanted to join the Mile High Club, so of course he seeks out the first opportunity available.</p>
            </blockquote>





	got me so high ( like i'm on cloud nine )

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this may be the porniest porn you've ever read. 
> 
> Continue with caution. Lmao
> 
> (( trying to tag this appropriately was awkward. ))
> 
> (((( also, sorry. i don't know how to write short smut. whoops. ))))

    Fingers tap tediously upon the armrest with no semblance of established rhythm, the boredom factor starting to overwhelm him as the plane leisurely soars through the darkened sky. The original time they had departed from the airport in Barcelona was approximately one o'clock in the morning with an expected arrival time of at least seven a.m. The flight had been scheduled for Germany, the team having to face up against Bayern in the Champions League.

    The German himself was anticipating the arrival of his homeland, always being eager to return to the place he called home, but he dreads the flight to and from. Those around him are mostly asleep, though the plane buzzes with the soft hum of voices from tiny televisions as well as an assortment of iPods.

    His seat mate is snoring delicately beside him, the male's brunet head leaning slightly to the side, his arms and legs somehow managing to squeeze onto his respective seat. Marc releases a sigh at the monotonous sound then returns to staring back out the window but there's nothing scenic to see, not when it's past midnight and the sky is cloudless.

    Faint lights are glowing within the plane which allows him the knowledge of whose up, mostly the one's towards the front of the plane minus the rear, and he silently ponders whether or not they would mind if he went to them for some company since they had some odd hours to go until landing at the airport. But he doesn't move no, doesn't desire waking up the slumbering Bartra beside him, the man mumbling something airily beneath his breath.

    It's then he feels the familiar vibrations of his phone against his thigh, pale hands fumbling to retrieve it before the ringtone abruptly goes off to wake the sleeping patrons around him. When he glances down at the screen, the light temporarily blinding him for a moment, he finds a text from none other than Rafinha who is only a few seats in front of him.

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:36 AM ]** you better still be up

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:37 AM ]** i s2g i will wake you up myself, i can't sleep with the sound of dani singing beside me

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:37 AM ]** You're always so cranky when you don't get any sleep.

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:38 AM ]** cranky or just horny as hell? that's the question. do you wanna know the answer?

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:39 AM ]** If I said no, I'm sure you would only tell me anyway. Enlighten me, gatinho?

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:40 AM ]** cute. you can't see but i rolled my eyes at that. but yeah, i'm hella horny. like horny-horny.

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:42 AM ]** Honestly? When are you not? You're insatiable.

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:43 AM ]** ... that was supposed to be your cue to sext me ...

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:44 AM ]** Whenever we try you always say I'm bad at it then get mad at me for it.

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:45 AM ]** this is different. we're on a plane and i'm horny and it's cramped and even your crappy sexting would do right now

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:46 AM ]** like right now? if i was with you i'd be touching you right now and even though you're a complete fucking pru..

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:47 AM ]** de you'd be hard in an instant. you like it when i touch you in public, you get off to it. don't you?

    Marc squirms uncomfortably within his seat, sliding his gaze to a still slumbering Bartra, who is shifting once more into a more suitable position. One of his hands unconsciously dips down to adjust the already hardening bulge forming within his trousers before he gazes down at the text message once more, wetting his increasingly drying lips.

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:50 AM ]** You'd do that right now? In front of everyone?

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:51 AM ]** you have no idea what i'd do right now. this is why i wanted to sit with you but fuck boy bartra beat me to it

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:51 AM ]** my head could have been between your legs right now, you know you love the way my lips feel against you

 **| from : heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:52 AM ]** no one else can touch you or suck your cock like i can

    Fingers tug at the collar of his shirt as he reads the increasingly heated text messages, having to cough outwardly, to which a chuckle is heard from somewhere in the seats in front of him. Once more he glances at Bartra, whose face is still in peaceful tranquility, then releases a quieter sigh. 

**| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:53 AM ]** Nobody else can make you cum as hard as I can or as many times as I can. I have the scratches on my bac

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:53 AM ]** k to prove it. Sometimes when I close my eyes I think about it, making love to you, the way you cry out when

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:54 AM ]** I hit that spot, the way you choke out my name, how you always beg for more even after you can't take much else

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:55 AM ]** you're getting better at this, fuck. keep going? meet me in the bathroom in 5, try to be quiet.

    When Marc glances up towards the aisle he finds a very casually strolling Rafinha making his way back towards where the single bathroom is located, the brunet casting a dark and smoldering glance in his direction. He wears an anticipating smirk on his face, hands shoved deep within his fitted jeans, the faint outline of his cock straining through the material. He subtly nods his head in the general vicinity of the bathroom but doesn't speak a word, continuing on with his stroll as if nothing had happened between them.

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:58 AM ]** I'm going to take you against the counter from the back and you're going to watch movements through the

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:58 AM ]** mirror, understand? I want you to watch as I fuck you, need you to see how sexy you are when you cum

 **| to: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 2:59 AM ]** The whole plane's going to hear you moan out for me, everyone's going to know what I do to you..

 **| from: heiße Schokolade |**  
**[ text: 3:00 AM ]** i can't wait any longer, hurry up. 

    With that the blond discards his phone in one of the bags at his feet, tucking it safely away, before he awkwardly attempts to maneuver around Bartra without the male noticing the obvious bulge in his trousers. Drowsy eyes are slowly blinking awake but he only slides out of the way before hunching over their shared armrest, burying his face against his arm that slants across it.

    He has his hands positioned in front of him in a way that's more than blatant but he doesn't care—how could he when he had the sexiest man in the world waiting for him? Somehow he manages to stroll down the aisle without much of a second glance, fingers working the latch open on the door, spotting Rafinha already propped up on the small counter.

    Marc's tongue darts out to drag along his bottom lip as he eyes the sight of the male; his jeans and tiny briefs are clutching at his ankles and his button-up is splayed completely open to reveal his smooth, tanned chest. One of his hands is already wrapped around his thick cock, stroking it slowly, only glancing up when he hears the door click behind the blond.

    Hands begin to twitch with urgency as the blond crowds the brunet, gripping at his wrists, forcing them back against the now streaked mirror and thrusting until he's tucked beneath his spread legs. He leaves no room for teasing as he tilts his head to the side to capture the latter's lips in a searing kiss that's hot and heavy and full of teeth clashing and tongues that battle vehemently for dominance.

    Nimble fingers are already working on the thin cotton shirt the blond adorns, fingers clutching at the hem, then working it up and above his head with only a second to part before they're kissing furiously once more. Teeth continue to click together, tongues pressing eagerly against the other, sucking and nipping at the appendage. Rafinha carelessly tosses the shirt down onto the ground and splays his warm hands along the flat of his Marc's abdomen, nails bluntly tracing the outline of his abs then down his stomach towards the offending garment of his jeans. 

    "Do you always have to wear a belt?" Rafinha queries in agitation as he makes quick work of the fastening then repeats the same action with his jeans until they fall at his ankles, pale hands maneuvering to make quick works of his tiny shorts until they're just below his knees.

    Marc only offers a husky chuckle as he works his mouth down the length of his jaw—the bones clenching and un-clenching—as he presses open-mouthed kisses there. Teeth alternatively nip gingerly and harshly at the tanned skin of the column of his neck while his hand occupies itself with sliding between their flushed bodies to stroke both of their cocks, the heated skin rubbing roughly against the other.

    Tiny beads of pre-cum start to gather at the tip of Rafinha's cock, the blond using it to his advantage to slick both of their cocks until his palm moves more fluidly along the sensitive flesh. Already Rafinha's chest is heaving against the German's, his fingers gripping at his blond locks, tugging his face more insistently against his neck. Heady sighs and mewls echo from between plump lips as he thrust upwards into the fist the latter's hand makes, nails tugging lightly at the hairs upon his head.

    The German himself grunts at the action then tightens his fist around the heads of their cocks until they're both moaning out their pleasure, his mouth only stuttering slightly in its amorous movements on his neck. "Turn around," demands the blond as he reluctantly detaches his hands from their cocks, the brunet moving swiftly as he hops off the counter in favor of leaning over it, hands pressing flush against the frigid surface. "Such a good boy," hums the man as he rubs his hand appreciatively over the globes of the latter's ass, offering it a soft smack, the skin reddening at the impact.

    Rafinha glances over his shoulder with a heated look, eyes narrowing into a playful scowl: "Just don't expect me to call you—to call you dadd—oh, fuck.." He can't form coherent words as fingers prod at his entrance, two fingers easily slipping in, alternating between scissoring and pumping in and out. "M-marc, just—I need you, right now. I swear to G—Meu deus.. V-você é tão bom."

    Despite the lack of proper lubrication, the German easily slides into the tight, cramped heat of Rafinha until he's buried to the hilt. He takes a moment to allow the Brazilian to adjust, the brunet pressing his forehead against the coolness of the mirror, his hips unconsciously pressing back against Marc's. He makes a whimper, one that's desperate and needy, and the blond isn't capable of denying him any further.

    Both of his hands attach to either side of those tanned hips as he slowly reels his hips back only to plunge deeply into the warmth that Rafinha's body provides, his wall unconsciously clinching around his cock as he does so. Another whimper echoes from the Brazilian at that movement, his forehead pulling back against the glass half an inch only to lightly bang against it when Marc repeats the action.

    One of his russet hands grips at the edge of the counter while the other attempts to seek purchase on the sleek surface but to no avail, only serving to streak it that much more, leaving desperate hand prints there. Marc grunts low in his throat as he works his hips up into a rhythm, his heart thudding against his eardrums, his nails digging into the sensitive flesh of Rafinha's hips.

    "Thought you," the brunet pauses to take a deep gulp as he presses back against the latter's hips, a moan escaping from them both at that: "Thought you were gonna m-make me scream.." He shifts so his flushed face is staring back at Marc, who only stares back pointedly, brows furrowing tightly at that.

    Not a word spews from the blond as he moves his hands to spread the latter's thighs further apart, or as far as they would go with the restraint from the jeans around his ankles, then moves one hand up the small of his back to trapeze over his spine in favor of yanking at his hair. A soft, broken cry echoes from the Brazilian then and a smug, satisfied grin appears on Marc's lips as he leans forward to attach his mouth to the skin of his neck.

    His hips continue to delve within the warm heat of his body, the arch of his back assisting in a new angle. The way he snaps his hips this time sends a shocking wave of pleasure that Rafinha wasn't expecting as he attempts to meet the latter thrust for thrust, the position completely throwing him off his rhythm. One of his hands slinks to Rafinha's cock to stroke him, thumb brushing against the weeping head, pre-cum freely leaking from the slit there. 

    He spreads the substance along the length of his cock and begins moving his wrist once more, moving it in time with the snap of his hips, the Brazilian mumbling in incoherent Portuguese. Eventually the blond allows the brunet to lean forward against the counter, his nails fumbling to dig into the cool surface but to no avail.

    All he can do is grip at it as Marc fluidly moves his hips in a learned rhythm, fucking him in earnest. Beads of sweat pool at his brow and trickles down his face as he wraps an arm around the latter's slender waist, his hand still occupied with stroking his cock in time with desperate thrusts that surge deeper within his form with every movement.

    "M-marc.." He chokes out desperately, the familiar trembling of his body beginning. One of his hands darts out behind him blindly, the blond abandoning its hold on his waist in favor of pressing it against the glass mirror once more, threading their fingers together against it.

    "Look at me," demands the German with a harsh thrust of his hips that leaves the Brazilian breathless, hips bucking profusely against the fist the elder's pale hand makes. "Pl-please.." Marc croaks after a minute of disobedience but finally the brunet obliges, glancing at him through the slightly fogged mirror.

    Chestnut hues are darkened with lust as he meets stormy oceans that are flickering wildly with emotion. Something about the desperation that the latter wears is undeniably sexy; the way his plump lips are bitten and reddened, slightly parted to allow soft moans, the way his entire face is flushed a faint crimson, how the sweat trickles down his brow then his cheeks eventually down to cascade and pool at his collar bones.

    Nearly a minute later the beautiful specimen is doubling over the counter with the force of his orgasm while Marc continues the steady, harsh snaps of his hips. Rafinha cries his name out over and over as his walls tighten unbearably around the length of Marc's cock, barely leaving leeway for him to continue his thrusting, and that alone is enough to send the blond over the edge.

    He doubles over the younger's until his chest is pressed flush into the latter's perspired back, his arms encasing his waist in a snug hold, keeping him firmly in place as he thrusts with abandon into the tightness of Rafinha's body. He fits snug and hot and warm as he releases in spurts inside the younger who moans his name in a broken mantra. Rafinha manages to sneak a hand between himself and the counter to stroke lazily stroke his cock through his haze, still cumming as he feels the thickness of Marc move within him.

    Eventually stark white fills the elder's vision until the sight of Rafinha's face within the mirror becomes nothing but a beautiful blur. He rests his chin upon his perspired shoulder and breathes heavily against him, chest heaving against his back, hips still twitching as the tremors of his body come to a leisurely halt. 

    Lips press tender kisses to his shoulder and neck as he soothes the younger through his orgasm, the brunet's labored breathing filling the space of the tiny bathroom. He weakly presses back against Marc one final time before he finds his elbows pressed firmly into the counter-top, his head dipped within the basin of the sink.

    Rafinha's mouth feels raw and dry when he opens it slightly to speak but no words echo. Instead he glances at Marc and the two stare at each other for a moment before the younger leans forward the short distance to bring their lips together in a soft, tender kiss. There is no tongue or violent teeth clashing, only the softness of bitten lips, seeking each other out for comfort.

    Marc reluctantly withdraws from his body in favor of searching for the roll of tissue within the stall, rolling some out then offering it to Rafinha, who sports a grateful smile as he lazily dabs at the mess upon his abdomen and the counter-top. He crinkles his nose in disdain at that then wavers uncomfortably from foot to foot, glancing back at Marc with a small frown.

    "I'll have to deal with that the rest of the flight," murmurs the Brazilian, making a disgusted sound at the back of his throat.

    Marc, who returns almost instantaneously to his bashful self, flushes a deeper crimson color as he wipes nonchalantly at his softening cock. "Sorry about that, I just—You said you wanted me as soon as possible and I didn't have time to—" Lips are pressing into his to silence whatever was coming out of his mouth, but the blond doesn't seem to mind as he sighs into the kiss.

    "That just means we'll have to shower together when we get to the hotel, doesn't it?" Rafinha suggests with an imploring look upon his countenance, quirking a suggestive brow at the latter.

    "There's the insatiable Rafa I know."

    The smuggest of smirks adorns the Brazilian's features as he tosses the soiled tissues into the nearby trash bin then hesitantly tugs up his briefs and jeans, nose crinkling once more as he moves within them. "We're gonna smell like sex when we go sit back down," 

    Realization dawns on the blond and he awkwardly maneuvers around the brunet so he can gain access to the sink, thoroughly washing his hands then gently blotting his face with the cool water. He snatches up a paper towel to dry the wetness that forms upon his face then turns to Rafinha with a small smile: "I'll ask Bartra if he'll move and you can sit in the back with me?"

    "Do that? I'm staying in here though, text me when you've done all that?"

    Marc casts him a weary glance but nods nonetheless as he ducks out of the restroom in favor of strolling casually back towards his seat where he finds a mortified-looking Bartra, who gazes up at him in bewilderment. Tanned hands are raising defensively as Marc approaches, the Spaniard rising to his feet to allow the German in.

    "Is it okay if you switch places with Rafa?"

    Bartra's brows are furrowing tightly together as he gazes at the sated-looking Marc, the blond wearing a tiny but hopeful smile. "It's cool, I don't mind, just—Don't tell me about it, please?"

    "What are you talking about?"

    Bartra winces at that but rises to his feet nonetheless, fishing overhead for his bags as well as his laptop that sits in a case beneath his seat. "Look: I don't want to know anything. I don't know who else heard but I know for sure that I don't want to be anywhere near you two when we get to the hotel. He can take the seat."

    Marc offers an apologetic smile, eyes crinkling at the corners, but the raven-haired man is already making his way down the aisle towards an amused-looking Dani that graciously allows him the seat. He rummages for his phone within his bag to send out a text to Rafinha, the brunet emerging from the bathroom no less than a minute later to sneakily plop down beside him.

    "I cleaned up the best I could while in there, the bathroom's gonna need a lot more toilet paper." 

    "You're so gross," scolds the German who thumps his head back against the headrest, eyes fluttering to a content close.

    An amused snort echoes from Rafinha, however, as he places a warm hand upon the elder's upper thigh. "You have no idea."

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay.
> 
> I need to get a life and stop writing Terfinha pr0n. SOMEONE SEND HALP, PLEASE TAKE AWAY MY LAPTOP, ANYBODY PLEASE
> 
> (( probably gonna take a break from writing and this pairing for a while though. D: ))
> 
> ((( also: cheers. you're gonna need to bleach your eyes after this. ))


End file.
